Sick Days
by Lady Trek
Summary: *Complete!* When Starling comes down with that horrible flu bug that's going around, *You Know Who* comes to her rescue. October following the Lakehouse; Movie Cannon.
1. House Call

*Disclaimers: I own nothing. Please don't sue me, I'm only 16 and have 3 sticks of big red as my entire monetary worth... *  
  
Clarice Starling, formerly of the FBI, currently of the millions of unemployed Americans, was covered by a thick fluffy quilt, and seemingly surrounded by a cloud of pillows. She was very uncomfortable at the moment, though. It seems that no matter what she tries, she's either too hot or too cold. Her clothes - a pair of boxers, t-shirt, and socks - would normally give her quite a chill on this cool October Morning in New York, but she, the seemingly invincible Clarice Starling, had a horrible case of the cold/flu bug that was currently making it's way across the country.  
  
At the moment, she was hot. But as soon as she would kick the quilt off, she'd start shivering with cold, and put the blanket back on. The cycle repeated itself almost tirelessly until she finally decided to keep one leg and one arm outside the quilts warm area. That way, she reasoned, at least a good half of me will be cold and the other warm. A nice balance. Clarice coughed a bit and rolled over on her side, careful to keep the one leg out of the blanket still. Just as she was about to get comfortable, she heard one of the most annoying sounds someone in her health could hear: the Phone.  
  
Not only was her body a mess fighting the sickness, but her voice...ugh, her voice was simply horrendous. It was what one would expect when one's throat feels as if you swallowed hot coals, but, now that the phone was ringing, she couldn't really ignore it, could she? She had a private number, so it had to be someone important. Otherwise, they'd never have gotten her number.  
  
She sighed and reached for the phone, and with one loud cough, cleared her throat and answered it.  
  
"Starling" she said weakly.  
  
"My, my, Clarice. You do sound a mess. Perhaps I shouldn't have called..." she could almost hear her heart stop, then start up again at a pace uncommon to a person in her state of health.  
  
"Doctor -" she fell into a fit of lung-wrenching coughs, and slapped her chest a few times in an attempt to stop it, and then continue. "Doctor Lecter! Wh-"  
  
"Clarice, normally I wouldn't ask such a thing of you, but please my dear, don't speak. I cannot bear to hear your voice...Hmm. Perhaps you could do well with a cup of my herbal tea. It has always seemed to alleviate any ailments I have, though it contains nothing but herbs."  
  
"Doctor Lecter..."  
  
"Ah, ah! What'd I say, Clarice? We mustn't talk; it'll only make your voice worsen...as if there is any level beyond that of the illness you are currently at. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the tea. It was a recipe passed down from generation to generation. My mother gave it to me, after my Father's mother gave it to her. It really is quite soothing...Ah, there's the kettle..." She heard the sound of a whistle in the background...only it didn't seem to be that far away. Clarice pulled the phone away from her ear long enough to realize it was coming from her own kitchen.  
  
Oh...My...God...He's in my house...sh*t!  
  
She immediately sat up, barely remembering that she was in no condition to do so, and stood on rather shaky legs. She violently shook her head, and started towards her kitchen. The dizziness overcame her, and she started to fall towards the floor- only to be caught by a pair of strong arms. Unable to resist, she fell into unconsciousness.  
  
When Clarice awoke, she immediately noticed the pounding of her head. She groaned and opened her eyes...and froze. She wasn't in her living room anymore...indeed; she doubted she was even still in her House in New York still. She started to let out a long string of un-ladylike curses, but was stopped by another coughing fit. She closed her eyes against the pain, and rubbed her sore throat.  
  
"Here, this ought to help a bit" Clarice hadn't heard him enter, and jumped clear off the bed. As she regained her composure, she shot a glare at him that would crumple any normal man.  
  
"Doctor Lecter, you nearly gave me a coronary!" she cleared her throat and swallowed hard.  
  
"Clarice, I will not tell you again to stay quiet! Your voice is absolutely nerve wracking! I cannot bear to hear it a moment longer." He said setting a tray down on the nightstand beside her. She vaguely smelled something good coming from it, but refused to take her eyes, her glaring eyes, off of Lecter.  
  
"Come now, it's time for you to eat something." At her look, he grinned a bit. "No, no house special in it, purely chicken soup and noodles. You trust me, don't you Former Special Agent Starling?" his eyes danced as he looked at her with open playfulness.  
  
"Don't call me that" came the hoarse whisper.  
  
He chuckled. "Of course, my dear." He smiled a bit, and took the tray from the nightstand, placing it on her lap. "Eat up, Clarice. And you'll notice that that is some of my tea I mentioned earlier to you. Quite good, if I may say so myself."  
  
Clarice warily took a spoonful of the soup...and immediately took another. Not only was the soup good, it was also soothing on her throat. Somehow, she doubted it was a mere coincidence. Nothing with Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a coincidence.  
  
She finished her soup and took a sip of the tea. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She made a sour face and mouthed the words,  
  
Very good, Doctor Lecter. Thank you.  
  
He smiled, "You're most welcome, My Dear. Is there anything I can get you?" he asked kindly. She was most pleased that he could read her lips, but not surprised. Somehow, with Lecter, you came to expect the unexpected. She shook her head in a negative, and lay back, slightly closing her eyes.  
  
"Then I will leave you to your rest, then. I will be here when you wake up." He smiled, and she drifted off to sleep.  
  
Clarice walked at a leisurely pace down the New York sidewalk, smiling at those she passed, and nodding to those who smiled back. It was a pleasant day outside, and she didn't have a care in the world. She almost didn't notice when the crowd ahead of her parted, and a lone figure stood with his back away from her. He was wearing a stylish Armani suit, with a white fedora pulled down low over his eyes. She could just make out a hint of reddish hair beneath he that, when he turned to look at her, lowering his sunglasses at the same time. She gasped, and stopped dead in her tracks.  
  
By now, the crowded New Yorkian streets were empty except for the pair. She gazed at him, and he gazed back. Suddenly, his voice cut through the silence.  
  
"I love you, Clarice Starling"  
  
She opened her mouth to reply, but another voice beat her to it.  
  
"Freeze! FBI! Don't move Doctor Lecter, Starling!" she turned to see Agent, or rather Former Agent Paul Krendler pointing what appeared to be her old service pistol at Lecter; removed crown and all. Before she could make a move, he pulled the trigger.  
  
Clarice screamed "NOOOOO!!!" and lunged at Lecter, but it was too late. She got there just in time to catch him as he fell, falling to the sidewalk with him.  
  
Krendler, who never was anywhere near an adequate shot, had shot him in close to the same place Lecter had stabbed the pickpocket Pazzi hired to get his fingerprints.  
  
Clarice just stared down at his paling face, tears rolling out of her eyes, down her cheeks and falling on his. He raised a hand to her face, and muttered "I Love you Clarice...Beatrice to my Dante." Then his hand fell limp and Clarice started shouting.  
  
"No! No you can't leave me! Hannibal! Comeback! I don't want you to go! Hannibal!"  
  
Doctor Lecter looked up from his book when Clarice started tossing and turning in her sleep. When he heard her mumbling, he immediately went to sit by her knees on the bed. He put a hand to her forehead, and took her hand in his right, and quietly watched as she played out her nightmare.  
  
"No! No you can't leave me! Hannibal! Comeback! I don't want you to go! Hannibal!"  
  
"Shh, shh. It's okay, I'm here. Hannibal's here; it's all going to be alright." He gently caressed her face with his left hand, as his right thumb traced circles over the back of her hand.  
  
Slowly she awoke. And once she did, she immediately pulled him to her, her frame shaking with sobs. "Oh Hannibal! You're alive! I thought you were dead! I thought Krendler had killed you! Oh, Hannibal it was awful...I was walking down the streets of New York, and then I saw you...you told me you loved me, but before I could tell you I loved you too Paul showed up with the cap of his skull off, brain exposed. He shot you! The bastard shot you, and you bled to death in my arms! You...died in...my arms...and I couldn't...tell you...I loved you!" she couldn't talk anymore, and just clung onto him as if her dear life depended on it, drenching his sweater in her tears.  
  
"Shh, it's okay Clarice. I'm right here. You're fine now, and Paul won't ever shoot me. He's dead, remember? It's all going to be fine, just calm down and go back to sleep." He soothed her gently.  
  
"Don't leave me, Hannibal. Don't go..." she pulled him down next to her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. She settled down, and her breathing eased back to normal.  
  
"I won't go anywhere, promise." He said as she drifted off to sleep. Her last waking thought, This feels good. Safe...good...  
  
Clarice awoke a few hours later, feeling better than she had in the last week, arguably her whole life. She yawned, stretched, and cautiously looked at the place where she vaguely remembered Doctor Lecter lying last night...but he wasn't there. She frowned slightly, and sat up. She looked around the room, and was very surprised to see him not here. Cautiously this time, she pulled the covers back and let her feet dangle on the side of the bed. Upon looking down, she noted a pair of slippers beneath her feet. Also, there was a rather comfy looking robe hanging on the door of the closet. Carefully, she stood in the slippers, and walked over to it, wrapping it around her. She was immediately comforted by the soft material, and fluffy feel. She smiled, and decided to head downstairs, where she now noticed a wonderful smell was coming from.  
  
Slowly, so as not to upset her shaky balance, she made her way towards the stairs, not even pausing to glance at the hall telephone...or the mirror.  
  
As she came down to the ground floor, she closed her eyes, and just let the smells overtake her. She opened her eyes to small slits and followed her nose to the source: a rather large and well-stocked kitchen. In the middle of it all, stood a very content looking Hannibal Lecter.  
  
"Ah, Clarice. Good morning. I'm glad to see you have made it out of bed. Have a seat; breakfast will be prepared in a few minutes. How do you feel, my dear?" he smiled at her momentarily before returning his attention to the breakfast he was cooking.  
  
She cleared her throat, unsure of how it would sound, and nodded. "Better, Doctor Lecter, much better. Thank you." At her use of his title, he chuckled.  
  
"Come now, Clarice. Don't you think it's time for you to use my given name? I would think that after 10 years you have earned the right to."  
  
She blushed a bit, and let a small smile play across her lips. She'd never said the name without being delusional, or without his other names behind it. "All right...Hannibal..." she smiled again, the name almost seemed at home on her tongue. She was about to say something else, when her stomach rumbled, causing her to blush.  
  
"Right on time! Breakfast is served!" he said with a smile that would make any other human terrified. It only served to make Clarice smile a similar smile that pleased both parties.  
  
He brought two plates to the table, and poured her and himself a cup of his by now welcome special recipe tea. After seeing that she had everything properly had at a breakfast at his table, he sat himself, and laid his napkin out over his lap. Lecter watched her do the same thing, and then hesitantly take up her fork. Clarice took a small bit of the food onto her fork, and slowly raised it to her lips. She chewed slightly, and then smiled widely.  
  
"It's delicious! Simply delicious!" she said barely avoiding the next forkful that she had brought up to her mouth.  
  
Lecter smiled, "I'm glad you enjoy it, Clarice."  
  
The meal passed with silence, broken only by the sounds of forks on plates, mainly because Clarice didn't have time to talk because she was eating so fast. When she had finished, she sat back in her chair; a deeply pleased expression came over her face, one that made Lecter almost glow inside. He stood, and took the dishes to the sink.  
  
They were silent as she stood and helped him with the dishes. He'd wash, and she'd dry and put them away. Only occasionally did she have to ask where something went, because to her ultimate amazement, they shared the same organizational process when it came to Kitchenware.  
  
Once the dishes were all dried and put away, she followed him out into a sitting area. A slight feeling of unease had come over her as she realized it was time for quid pro quo again. He undoubtedly had quite a few questions for her, as did she. Taking a seat on the couch, she curled her feet under her, and watched as he started a small fire in the fireplace. He turned back to her, and sat in the chair directly across from her.  
  
* A/N * Whew, I can't wait to get started on the second half...assuming, that is, that it's of any interest at all. I'll probably write it out anyway, `cause as I'm sure you know, when you have a plot bunny, it just wont leave you alone until it gets put on paper. Please let me know what you think! Criticism is welcome, as well as comments. Flames can be sent to my personal email address ^_^ * Kendal (L.T.) * 


	2. With Good Intent Comes Trouble

Disclaimers: See Previous Chapter. Before I get started, I just want to thank every one of my reviewers *sniffles* you made my day! And hopefully, there'll be a bit more umph in this chapter...just beware, I'm listening to several soundtracks that happen to make me think of Darth Vader, My Favorite Sith. Hopefully, a bit of evilness will come from that as inspiration. ^_^ * Kendal (L.T.) *  
  
**********  
  
Elsewhere in the world, a man in a dark suit and darker sunglasses rang the doorbell to Clarice Starling's house. He was a tall man, of somewhat muscular build, with short, close-cut hair. He had the outward appearance of a Military man, but in reality, he was one of Krendler's old Lackeys.  
  
Before Agent Krendler passed away (a thought that would surely make Clarice double over in laughter) he had assigned Robert Holland to keep close tabs of her. And while it would seem illogical for Holland to keep up this like of work, he did for the mere fact that he just did not like that Starling woman. The way she carried herself, the way she acted as if she was better than everyone else...it just irritated him to no end. And as anyone with previous dealings with Holland can attest, he doesn't like to be irritated.  
  
After standing there at her door for a good 5 minutes, he decided that a) she wasn't home, and b) he'd go in anyway. After all, her car was there...and he hadn't seen her leave, so she either had to be dead, unconscious, or just gone by some other means. Holland didn't particularly care why, but something inside of him was telling him to go in and look around.  
  
He first tried to see if the door was unlocked...and it was. He rolled his eyes. For a former Special Agent, her security obviously didn't matter much to her. With a straightening of his tie, he entered her house.  
  
**********  
  
Starling shifted uncomfortably under Dr. Lecter's scrutiny. He'd been looking at her that way for a good 10 minutes now; and it wasn't exactly serving to help her current state. She shifted again, and immediately regretted it, because her foot had fallen asleep. She began to rub the back of her knee, mumbling silently about the curses that she must endure. Doctor Lecter must have heard her, because he chuckled lightly.  
  
"What?" she said, as she continued to rub the back of her knee.  
  
"I sincerely doubt that your life is cursed, my dear. Perhaps...a stint of bad luck, or purely the bad company of your previous job?" at that, she picked up one of the throw pillows and threw it at him. He, of course, caught it, but not before sparing her a glance that one would give a rebellious child.  
  
"Now, now, Clarice; is that any way to treat your physician?"  
  
"Oh, so you're my doctor now? I thought you were a psychiatrist, Doctor Lecter?" she said sitting back and almost pouting...almost because the grin on her face from the banter would not go away.  
  
"Among many other things; I am, after all, a very multi-talented man." At this he winked at her. She tried to keep the blush from reaching her face, but didn't really succeed. Shaking her head, she turned her body to face him straight on, and locked eyes with him.  
  
"So are you gonna start questioning me, or not, Doctor Lecter?"  
  
"Tsk, tsk Clarice! We forget so quickly? I thought I asked you to call me Hannibal...perhaps I'm just going senile with my old age" Clarice snorted.  
  
"I'm glad to see that you find the thought of me going senile amusing." He said leveling her with a glare.  
  
"Oh no, it's not that. It's just that I rather think you'd never loose grasp on your mental abilities. You are rather well known for your genius...or insanity...or whatever you want to call it."  
  
"Ah, now that is an interesting point to bring up, Clarice. Tell me, what do you think I am?" his eyes lost all hints of playfulness, and were regarding her closely, as if waiting for her to make one wrong move so he could pounce on it.  
  
"Ohhh no! You won't get me that easily. If I answer you, you'll be able to say, "A Former Special Agent once tried to quantify me...I ate her liver with some fava beans...and a nice Chianti" and here she slurped. She was giggling softly, but stopped immediately once noticing him not laughing at all. In fact, he looked rather agitated.  
  
"Hey, I thought it was funny..." she shrugged.  
  
"Answer the question, Former Agent Starling." He said, his voice dropping into the `danger zone'.  
  
"I don't really think I am qualified to answer that. But since you so nicely insist, I think you're a Man, Doctor Lecter. A man with some... Unique views on the world, views that more often than not turn out to be proven true. I think you are immersed in faith- faith in yourself and in your abilities, and this faith has led you, in the past, to doing some things that you thought were right. You undoubtedly think they are still right. I don't think you are a monster, or a psychopath, sociopath, or anything of the sort. I believe that you are more sane than the rest of us, and unfortunately so. Because of your `saneness' you get labeled as a monster, a vampire, or whatever the general populace wants to believe you. But in reality, you are of a level of genius that we have previously been unaware could exist." With that, she slumped back. "Happy now?"  
  
All was quiet for a few moments, and in those moments, Clarice suddenly had the urge to pray to God that these last few quiet moments weren't her last...  
  
*A/N* I have more on the way, but for now, I hope this'll tide you over. Personally, I made a pact with myself to never post a story until I have it all finished...well, I broke my pact. This is definitely more than what I had planned, but you can blame my evil Plot Bunny for that. Y'all stay safe, and keep those reviews coming! Otherwise, I won't have suitable motivation to continue my story... *Devious ploy, I know. Did it work?* 


	3. Open Mouth, Insert Foot, Clarice...

*A/N* Hiyas! I want to take time out of the fic to thank my reviewers! Without you wonderful people, I'm sure this'd join the ranks of my other unfinished stories. I am humbly at your service!  
  
Disclaimers: Thomas Harris owns all the cannon characters, I merely toy with them. The originals are mine, but you're welcome to them! And again, don't sue me. I don't even have the gum now…  
  
**********  
  
Robert walked through the entryway of Clarice's apartment, and was immediately aware of how…untidy she was. The living room looked as if she had been camping out there for at least a week, which in reality, she had been. Never the less, Robert was disgusted by her lack of cleanliness. He supposed he should give her at least a bit of credit, as she had yet to leave large numbers of alcohol bottles lying around, but he knew that in her present state of employment, it wouldn't be that far off.  
  
He put on a pair of leather gloves and gently began to rifle through her belongings, stopping every once and a while to ponder over a certain object.  
  
He found nothing of interest in the entry hall, or living room, and ventured to her bedroom. At the very least, he would see if there were any letters from the Notorious Hannibal Lecter that she had not turned into the proper authorities. With that, he could have her arrested for aiding and abetting, or something equally just as bad.  
  
This in mind, he opened the door to her bedroom, and began his search.  
  
**********  
  
Hannibal Lecter was not a man to aggravate. He did not enjoy the sensation of impatience, nor did he tolerate insolence. If you were ever to talk to him, you had better hope he did not think you rude, or malicious; he did not tolerate such behavior around him.  
  
Though Clarice Starling had answered his question honestly, he could not help but feel a stab of anger at her words. Though, at the same time, he was more than a little surprised by them…not to mention a bit happy over them as well.  
  
For those reasons, it is understandable that he was a bit shell- shocked on the outside. He hadn't said anything for quite a while, and Clarice was regarding him with barely concealed fear. He heard her clear her throat just moments before she said anything.  
  
"Doctor Lecter? Are you all right, sir? I didn't mean to upset you, I just answered truthfully…" she said in a weak voice. Hannibal looked into her eyes, and saw the silent plea for mercy. He couldn't help but smile.  
  
"I am quite fine, my dear, I assure you. It would be a lie if I said your statement did not surprise me, and indeed a bit angered. Never the less, I thank you for your ever-present candor. Now, I believe you need to rest, as you are not entirely healed from your little illness. I have a few errands to run while you nap. Feel free to explore the house while I'm away..." he stood, smiled slightly, and left the room, leaving Clarice to her thoughts.  
  
***********  
  
Not much, I know. But I was waiting on inspiration. It struck…by making me sick as well. We can't always get what we hope for, can we? More comin' soon.  
  
Seesyas ^_^  
  
~Kendal 


	4. Repercussions and Effects

*A/N Back on the ball again. Just want to thank my readers (You are out there, aren't you?) and all the reviewers. You've been my inspiration…almost literally -_~ *  
  
**********  
  
Doctor Lecter climbed into his Suburban and started the ignition. It wasn't nearly as close to a Jaguar as he'd have liked, but when you're this close to those people who want to catch you, your desires can be put aside.  
  
Normally, with Clarice Starling in his house, he would venture to guess he'd be right there beside her. But not now. He needed to get away and think; somewhere where her startling perception couldn't interrupt him.  
  
So, and quite naturally, he found himself driving to her apartment. He did have to arrange something for this evening, and it would be helpful to retrieve some…bargaining chips from her house. And besides, he had this nagging feeling he should get there as soon as the Suburban could carry him.  
  
**********  
  
Robert sat down on her bed and looked around at Clarice Starling's bedroom. It was definitely what he expected: messy, but unused.  
  
Figures, he thought, The Ice Queen couldn't get a date unless it was a sociopathic madman that eats his victims. Holland laughed at his own not- funny joke.  
  
He stood and walked over to her closet. He then proceeded to open he door and rifle through her clothes, until one dress in particular made him stop. But not just any dress, The Dress.  
  
Ohhh what a fool! She had actually kept this, knowing it was evidence in a federal investigation of one of the Top Ten Most Wanted! He could nail her for sure.  
  
Obviously, if she kept this, she must have kept some more Lecter memorabilia. The only question was where she kept it…  
  
**********  
  
Clarice stood and paced about the room. Did he intend to kill her for that little outburst? Should she start praying? Starling shook her head as she laughed hysterically. Praying. To whom?  
  
She sighed and headed back upstairs to her bedroom. She could use a nice long soak in the bath, and knowing Doctor Lecter…there would definitely be something there to soothe her. She only wondered what was to happen. But as she started the water, and lit the candles, her fears soon evaporated as she stepped into the water. What will happen, will happen. She'd just have to wait and see…  
  
**********  
  
A/N: I've got the rest planned out, so hopefully, the next chapters shouldn't be that far between. Thank you all for reading and encouraging me. (Just fyi…I've got another fic on the way too. Prolly wont be as good, but I got to get rid of these plot bunnies. ^_^)  
  
~Kendal 


	5. Setting the Table...

Disclaimers: As always, the Characters (minus Robert Holland) Belong to Thomas Harris, and to the exceptionally talented actors that portrayed them. I claim the rights to nothing, and am only borrowing the wonderful, if misused characters.  
  
**********  
  
Robert took a final look around the entryway of Starling's home, and felt immensely glad to be over with this little excursion…for now. He headed towards the door and turned the knob. He was looking at his feet, so he didn't notice the form that stood on the other side of the threshold. He glanced up…and met the face of Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and his now- poised Harpy.  
  
Robert didn't even have time to blink before he was grabbed, and a needle was put into his arm. Within a matter of seconds, he drifted to unconsciousness.  
  
Doctor Lecter caught him just as he was falling, and dragged him to the suburban, very glad that he had opted for the extra space…  
  
**********  
  
Clarice heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. She opened her eyes and muttered a sleepy 'Come in' as she sat up.  
  
"Ah, Clarice. I thought it best to wake you, my dear. I realize your current state of health isn't as best as it could be. For that reason, I've prepared you a dinner fit for the Queen you could be. I brought you a dress…" at this, Dr. Lecter brought out a bag from behind his back.  
  
"You'll find all the items you need in the Bathroom. Dinner will be served in an hour, Clarice." He slightly inclined his head, and left the room; leaving Clarice very curious as to what he was up to.  
  
At least this time, she mused, I get forewarning. I wonder whose brain I'll be eating tonight...  
  
She sighed, and stood. As she was heading towards the bathroom for the second time that day, she couldn't help but be drawn to the garment bag. She walked over to it, and unzipped it. A formal midnight blue dress greeted her, and almost caused her to faint from the surprise. It was the most absolutely amazingly beautiful dress she had ever seen! She excitedly zipped the bag back up, and hurried to make herself ready; she couldn't wait to wear it, and see the look on his face when she did.  
  
**********  
  
Robert opened his eyes slowly, and started to reach for his forehead, only to notice that he could not move. His arms and hands were secured to a chair in a dark, and dank basement. Immediately, he started to squirm against his bonds, and try to move the chair. A voice came out of the darkness, and literally sent shivers down his back.  
  
"You'll find you are tied quite securely. I suggest you not strain against your bonds, it'll only make your muscles weaker. Not to mention it would totally ruin the flavor of the meat…" Doctor Lecter said, stepping out of the shadows.  
  
Robert immediately had the urge to scream…but found his mouth gagged. Doctor Lecter brought out his Harpy and tapped it to his teeth. Unfortunately, Mr. Holland must not have been potty trained, because at the sight of the deadly weapon, he wet his pants.  
  
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That wasn't very grown-up of you, now was it? Now Mister Holland…I must return upstairs and finish preparing dinner. You will be good enough to wait for my return, will you not?" Robert made a muffled screech, and struggled against his bonds.  
  
"Stay put, Mister Holland." Doctor Lecter grinned to himself, and walked back up the stairs.  
  
**********  
  
*A/N: Chapter 5 at last. I don't foresee that much more...but then again, I'm not a Jedi. Next chapter should be soon :) Thank you all for reviewing, you are definitely my inspiration, not only with your words of encouragement…but also with your stories that have given me soooooo many ideas. ~Kendal, L.T. ^_^ 


	6. Dinner is Served

*A/N Hello everybody! I just wanted to warn you guys: I don't have much knowledge of fine cuisine. If it isn't fried, or burnt like my mom makes it, I pretty much don't know about it. So please forgive any errors on my part. Other than that, I have nothing more to say. Enjoy the story! *  
  
**********  
  
Doctor Lecter stood patiently at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Clarice to make her way downstairs. Of course, to the outside world, he was daydreaming. But inside his mind, he was working out a plan for the unwelcome visitor downstairs. He could have made quite a lovely dinner tonight with him, but he somehow reasoned that Clarice would want to question him and find out why he was in her house without her consent. Such an unspeakably rude act should not go unknown to the victim.  
  
Just thinking about Mr. Holland drove Doctor Lecter to the extreme edges of his patience. Normally, he would have dispersed of him the instant he saw him committing the atrocious act. Ah, but things aren't 'as usual' with a certain Clarice M. Starling around.  
  
Just as he thought about her, a small, secret, smile crept up onto his face. Just thinking about what she would look like in the dress he bought her made him smile. And if the dress were as he thought, he would be smiling for a while yet. He snapped out of his reverie when he heard her door open. Immediately he straightened his posture more, and clamed his anxious heart. And this from the man who was reputed for not having his heart go above 85 when he ate a nurses tongue!  
  
Somewhat hesitantly he heard Clarice make her way into the hall, and towards the stairway. He wiped his face of the smile, and waited for her to decide to come down.  
  
Clarice, on the other hand, was quite the nervous wreck. The last time she had awoken in a house with him, she had watched a man – which was a very disputable fact all to itself – eat his own brains. Needless to say, she was wary of what was to come.  
  
But deep down, in her heart of hearts, she was also anxious to see what would come from this dinner. Not only was the dress splendidly gorgeous, she had little doubt that anything He picked out would be anything less, but she was also painfully aware of how incredibly handsome he would look. A fact that made her heart flutter and her stomach perform flips.  
  
With a sigh, she made her way to the top of the staircase, and started to descend. When she looked up, she saw him looking at her, and she at him. She paused on the step for a minute or two, and then started back down.  
  
"Clarice, I must say you look magnificent tonight! I am very pleased that the dress fit you." Doctor Lecter said as he extended an arm to her.  
  
"You…ah…you look very handsome yourself, Doctor Lecter." Clarice said, blushing furiously.  
  
"Come now, my Dear. I believe it is time for our meal. And afterwards, I have a little surprise for you." He smiled his trademark 'evil' smile, and led her to the dining room.  
  
Doctor Lecter pulled out her chair for her, and then poured her a glass of wine. Once he had her situated, he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned to the dining room with a dining cart and wheeled it over behind his seat. He took from it two soup bowls, and placed one in front of Clarice, and another in front of his own place. He sat down and looked towards Clarice, who was delicately sipping on her soup.  
  
"How is it, my Dear?" he asked.  
  
"Wonderful, Doctor. I wouldn't even begin to be able to tell you what it is, though." She said as she wiped the corners of her mouth.  
  
They soon finished the dinner, sharing an intense discussion of Poetry and psychology. Though they kept it light, they kept nothing from the discussion, and held nothing back. As soon as both were finished with the main course, and were retiring to the living room for coffee, Doctor Lecter spoke up about the 'guest'.  
  
"Clarice, would you allow me to escort you to the basement?" Doctor Lecter asked as he moved to take her arm.  
  
"Yes…I suppose so." She was more than a little apprehensive about his tone of voice, and didn't really think she wanted to know what he was planning. But since she had no obvious alternative, she had no choice but to agree to his games. 


	7. The Cure

*A/N Okieday, here it is! The conclusion! I would like to thank all you wonderful people that encouraged me throughout this whole project, namely Chameleon302, Nanci, Samantha Bridges, Steel, 143, Shattered Mug, Jan, Allegretto Emily, Troesnaja, Luna, Cloudburst2000, Nikita, Jane, Lalita, and last but not least, Kijm *big breath* You guys rock!  
  
  
  
**********  
  
Without turning on the lights on the stairwell, Doctor Lecter led Clarice down into the dark basement. Faint rustling sounds were heard, almost like a rat. She immediately had a flashback to Jame Gumb's little dungeon with all the butterflies…she suppressed a shudder and gripped onto his hand harder. He smiled slightly and helped her down the last step. With all the years he had spent in the dungeon asylum, his eyes were used to the darkness.  
  
"Here we are, Clarice. Wait here a moment while I get the lights…" his warm presence immediately left her side followed shortly by a light turning on. She closed her eyes from the brightness, and then opened them. The sight she saw dumbfounded, maybe even frightened her. Tied up in a chair with a blanket over his lap was a gagged man. He wasn't cleanly shaven, but that can be expected; she didn't know how long he had been down here. But he was also in a state of panic…especially when he saw both Doctor Lecter and herself appear from upstairs.  
  
"Clarice, I'd like for you to meet Mister Robert Holland. He, apparently, has met you." He said gesturing at the gagged man.  
  
"No, I don't believe we've met. I would have remembered him. Why did you say he met me?" she asked eyeing both Robert and the Doctor warily.  
  
"Because he was looking through your house, of course. Though I'm quite sure that is a story best heard from him, not me. Now Mister Holland, I am going to remove your gag now. If you scream, no one will hear you. We are quite secluded, I assure you. Will you cooperate?" Doctor Lecter asked as the Harpy slid effortlessly out of his sleeve and into his waiting hand.  
  
With a muffled grunt and a nod, Robert agreed. Doctor Lecter smiled, and ripped the duct tape off of his mouth very quickly, causing Robert's head to turn with the force. He let out a muffled scream, but didn't let it come all the way out.  
  
Clarice left the comfort of Doctor Lecter's side, and walked over to Robert.  
  
"Who the hell are you, and what where you doing in my house?" she glared at him as she stood with her arms crossed looking down at him. Doctor Lecter was quite certain that if he had not already emptied the contents of his bladder, he would do so now.  
  
"R-r-r-Robert H-Holland." His mouth moved to form words, but no sound came out.  
  
"Come now, Mister Holland. It is very rude to leave a lady- especially this Lady- waiting." Doctor Lecter said drawing a few steps closer.  
  
"Ahh! Krendler hired me! I swear! I didn't want to hurt you! Don't hurt me!" by this time, Mr. Holland was thrashing around so much that his chair tilted over to the side and fell. He, on the other hand, was promptly knocked unconscious by the fall. Meanwhile, Clarice was seething with barely controlled rage.  
  
"Krendler…KRENDLER! That stupid..." she let out a stream of extremely unladylike curses that almost caused Doctor Lecter to curse. That is why they aren't repeated here.  
  
"I thought we were finished with his stupid ass when he ate his own brains! But no! The bastard has to haunt me from the grave!" Clarice growled and kicked the chair's leg.  
  
"What would you like to do with him, Clarice?"  
  
"Beat him with a chair leg until he calls me mommy" she said with another kick. Doctor Lecter chuckled a bit, and smiled.  
  
"While normally I wouldn't hesitate to let you do just that, you are in no condition to be expending your energy in such unproductive ways. I suppose we shall have to go with my plan, after all. Well, if you'll permit me, and yourself, time to change, we'll get started." He gestured to the stairs and held out his arm. With a smile that matched his own, she ascended the staircase and disappeared into her room to change.  
  
**********  
  
About 10 minutes later, Hannibal and Clarice sat on their comfortable couch thinking. Hannibal had already explained his plan to Clarice, and was waiting her response on it. Though he knew she would like it, the actual application itself worried him. It would require them to give up their hiding spot. Which was just as well, actually. They, note the term, would be leaving the States shortly and would soon move out of the watchful eye of the FBI. So that was no problem. The problem was the actual 'punishment' itself. Clarice thought Hannibal's punishment was too lax, and said something to that effect. But the alternative…was not altogether humane. With a sigh, she looked again towards Doctor Lecter.  
  
"I say we go with the extreme. No holds barred." She nodded to herself as she looked at him. With grin, Doctor Lecter stood and took hold of her hand.  
  
"This is turning out to be a pleasant evening." He gave her hand a squeeze and then dropped it.  
  
"Well, " he continued. "I'll get the Prisoner you ready things up here. We'll get him secured and taken care of, then we'll make our escape." Doctor Lecter turned and headed back down to the basement. Clarice meanwhile moved a chair to face the TV and went to find some rope and duct tape.  
  
Just as Clarice had finished checking the chair for anything dangerous, Doctor Lecter emerged from the basement, Robert slung over his shoulder. He came and put him in the chair none too lightly. It was then that Clarice noticed his earlier…accident. She raised an eyebrow and grinned, but said nothing. Without waste of time, Doctor Lecter had cuffed his hands together behind his back, and was starting to tie him to the chair. He soon finished and glanced around to find Clarice flipping channels on the TV.  
  
"I think we'll definitely have to go with the DVD. There isn't anything suitable on for this line of punishment," she said frowning.  
  
"As I said there would. You should be lucky I keep these things around. It never hurts to be prepared. That, and I was planning a visit for an old acquaintance of mine. Ah well, it'll be for a good cause." He disappeared momentarily and came back with a brightly colored DVD case and handed it to Clarice.  
  
"Would you do the honors, My Dear?" he asked.  
  
"With pleasure" Clarice opened the case and popped the DVD into the player. The sounds of awful music and off-pitch singing soon filled the room. Grimacing, Doctor Lecter tore off two thin pieces of duct tape, which he soon used to tape Robert's eyes open. Then, he stood back to survey his work.  
  
"I don't think he'll be going anywhere soon, do you?" Clarice asked.  
  
"If he does, he'll be going to a nice padded cell. Who ever produced this type of entertainment surely had that as their goal. Okie Dokie. Time for us to head out. I do hope the authorities don't decide to bust his fun for a good few hours; it would be a waste of money. After all, Barney the Dinosaur is not as cheap as it used to be…" he winked at her and motioned to the Purple Dinosaur on the television. Clarice shook her head and half dragged, half led him to the door of the house. With a smile, he followed.  
  
Thus we see the painful end of Robert Holland's life as a sane person. This also marks the date the Lovely Couple celebrate, excluding their meeting and the whole Muskrat Farm incident, as one of their anniversaries. It is certain, however, that the Bride of Frankenstein, and the Monster himself were never to be toyed with. Not even in the FBI was their name taken lightly. Anyone who would do that to a person just for rifling through some stuff most certainly was to be avoided in small numbers.  
  
But, for now, they lived happily ever after.  
  
**********  
  
*A/N I suck at endings, 'specially ones where it's not mysterious. Ah well. It's over! I hope you enjoyed yourself. Y'all be safe, and have fun in your lives! ^_^ ~Lady Trek, Kendal ~ 


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